


Ashes and Stardust

by canadianhannah



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Break Up, Casual Sex, F/M, Frerard, Gerard POV, Heavy Angst, I Think I Like It Alternative Epilogue, ILMP, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Multi, Sad Ending, Sex, Student Frank Iero, Teacher Gerard Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianhannah/pseuds/canadianhannah
Summary: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3549968/chapters/7816622





	Ashes and Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> To Rayne

 

Ashes.  
Dust.  
Residual glitter, and the remnants of a night I can’t forget, but can’t quite remember.

 

I remember him. I remember the hazel, Saturn-ring curls of his eyes. He would smile at me, and the stars would dance in his irises, creating constellations and formations never before seen. Beneath the pale of his skin, lay the fingerprints of everyone he’d ever loved. I wonder if my fingerprints are still there, embedded in ivory, like a fossil.  
They say every seven years, your body becomes brand new. Perhaps, then, he’ll carry me with him for a few more years. He never seemed like the kind to acid-wash his life; that was always me. Me, the fatalist. Me, the failure.

 

I loved him. That’s the truth – that will always be the truth. It’s the only thing I know, sometimes. I still have nights where I can’t remember my own name, can’t utter my address to the taxi driver, but I can recite his mind without fault. The parts I know, anyway. It seems I didn’t know him as well as I thought – or maybe I knew him too well. Those last few months are a hurricane to me. Whenever I try to recall the ashen look on his face when he left me, or the pinch of his nails on my thighs the last night we spent together, all I can see is grey.  
Ashes, and dust. That’s all that’s left of me, and of him. And, perhaps, of us.

 

I haven’t said his name yet. Perhaps I’m too afraid to. These days, his name is all I know about him.  
Frank. My Frank. My once-love, my once-forever.

 

 

            The last moments of peace I ever knew, were just before he left me. I called our engagement off. I took his ring, felt the sharp burn of it against my skin – a burn only his touch could soothe, yet I didn’t ask for it. Leaving him was snake venom in my veins, but I smiled as I felt it surge through me. What would kill me, would protect my love.  
I confess, if I thought he wouldn’t come back, I would have never asked him to leave. I would have cried, I would have threatened my own death. I would have used every ounce of my manipulative power over him to draw him to my side forever.  
But then, even then, I couldn’t have stopped him. That was the nature of my love. He was fire and I was a fuse. Frank could burn forever without me, but I needed him to set me alight.  
Did I force him to burn for me? Maybe. I wasn’t perfect. I wish now that I could die for each time I hurt him while he was mine. I had his arms, yet I slept encaged in other men’s. I had his lips, yet I pressed mine to beer cans and whiskey bottles. For every pill that slid down my throat, I could have breathed an ‘I love you’ against his skin, and felt the same calm haze.  
He was better than any drug, and I knew it. But that knowledge wasn’t enough to stop me from searching for something better than him when the side effects kicked in. He was my high, but sometimes I needed to get higher than he could drag me.  
Not now, though. Now I’m low. Cursed to spend my days with a mouth full of shit and dirt, to stare at the clouds and remember when I danced upon them and thought I’d never get dragged down.  
What an idiot I was. What a fool I still am.

 

 

            “Did you know that myth about eating spiders is total bullshit?”

That’s the first thing Frank said to me when he first came back from University. We were sitting in my car, my hand in his lap, and his clasped just above. I wanted to ask him to hold my hand, but I knew he wasn’t really mine anymore, either.  
He looked different already. It’d only been a couple of months, but he’d aged. He was growing stubble, and he’d gained some weight. When he talked, he talked with his hands – he’d never done that before. I wondered who’d taught him that. Professor, friend or lover? Whose hand-movements was he mimicking so eccentrically?

 

            “So I’ve heard,” I replied simply. It wasn’t like I didn’t have anything to say, it’s that I had too much I needed to tell him. My throat was full of desperate words I wanted to spit to him- but I had to abstain. I had no doubt he would end up in my bed, and then, only then, would I allow myself to murmur my fears into his skin. Now, though, I was smiling, and I was driving.

 

            “Makes sense though. Spiders hate people,” he said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I couldn’t help but grin – he looked so focused. Like he was trying to work out the secrets of the universe, right there in my car.

 

            “That means you and spiders have something in common. You angst-filled little shit, you,” I replied with relative ease. It was a little difficult for me to simply slip back into that casual banter we always had, but it wasn’t impossible. This wasn’t just anyone, after all: it was my Frank. No time away from me could change that.

 

            “Oh please, Gee. Hating everyone is passé. I’ve decided to be a hippy,” he said, his expression totally deadpan. I giggled.

 

            “Yeah? We talkin’ orgies and flowers, or drugs and dreads?” I teased. He glanced over, and I thought he was going to reply, but he didn’t. Not immediately. I was looking at the road, but from my peripheral vision, I could see him staring at me. Studying me. Like he couldn’t quite read me, but wanted to.  
After a moment, he shrugged, finally taking my hand.

 

            “I don’t know. You think an orgy might be fun, Gee?” he asked, smiling a little more softly now. There was an edge to his voice – something like melancholy, only happier.

 

            “Am I invited?” I asked. He was silent again, but I could see the sides of his lips twitching upwards.

 

            “I wouldn’t want to do it without you, baby.”

 

I was right when I said we’d end up sleeping together that night; but then, it wasn’t really ever a question to me. All the time we’d spent apart, all the hands that had touched us that didn’t belong to each other, and we still fell together so naturally. My body was his, and his was mine, and we moved together like the ocean combing along the beach. He was the sand, caught in my tides, thrown around me like fairy dust.

He was on top of me, his weight pressing me against the pillows that no longer smelled like him. My hands fisted in the side of the bed that was once his, now mine.

 

            “Is this good?” he whispered into my ear, his fingers pressing into my waist. His movements had changed – he rolled his hips a little deeper, grabbed my ass a little less than before. His rhythm wasn’t as erratic or excited as it once was – but smoother, more refined. It felt perfect. He was setting me on fire, each throb of our bodies echoing between us. I was wet, leaking over my own stomach, his hand curled in my hair and exposed my neck. He bit me hard, harder. The possessive growl in his throat sent a chill down my spine, and electricity through my thighs.

 

            “I-it’s good. You’re good. Fuck,” I breathed. He didn’t feel the same, but I could feel him, which was more than I could say for anyone else I’d had in his absence. My body and my soul were tied to his, and I could feel both crying with joy as we rolled together. The bed sheets curled around our legs as stars cascaded around our bodies, swathed in the glow of the moon. Fireworks burst through my core, leaving me a shaking, sweating mess in his arms, now firm and tattooed.  
He didn’t collapse on top of me anymore, like he did before. He wasn’t desperate to keep our bodies joined. Instead, he pulled out of me slowly, dropping to the bed next to me and grinning.

 

            “It’s been too long. I missed you,” he murmured, turning to cup my cheek. I believed him, because it’s all I had left.

 

            “I don’t wanna clean up. I wanna keep you in me,” I mumbled. I imagined him coming up with some corny line about how he’d always be within me – but instead, he said:

 

            “Well, that’s pretty gross, Gee,” with an amused smile plastered on his lips.  
I’d forgotten myself for a moment, it seemed. This wasn’t the same boy with flowerbuds in his hair and sunkissed cheeks. This was a man who’d had his bed warmed by more bodies than I cared to know, and who talked with his hands, and who didn’t want a piece of him living inside me anymore.

 

            “You’re gross,” I grumbled playfully. I sat up, half hoping he’d drag me back down.  
            “I’m gonna shower, I think,” I told him. Frank just nodded, laying on his back and looking at the wall behind me – his eyes naturally, it seemed, straying away from me. I could see a blue light curling around his form, and I couldn’t drag my eyes away. I wondered why I didn’t glow to him.

 

I started crying in the shower, and I wasn’t even surprised when I did. My boy was finally home, with me. He was in my bed and in my arms – but he felt brand new. Like a changeling, like he’d been replaced overnight. I saw the anchor tattooed on his arm, and the scorpion on his neck. I saw the little scar above his eyebrow, and he seemed to be mine, yet he wasn’t.

My hand was pressed to the cool tile, feeling the hot water rush down my back, almost scalding my skin. I barely noticed the pain. My body was numb, but not too numb so as not to feel when he joined me.

Frank wrapped his arms around my middle, pressing his face to my back.

 

            “Hey. Hey, Gerard. Baby. Don’t cry,” he whispered, kissing my shoulders. I shook my head, trembling too much to speak for a moment.

 

            “I miss you,” I finally managed to choke. Frank hummed, rubbing along my spine.

 

            “I’m right here, Gerard. I’m here, with you. Can’t you feel me, baby? I’m right here,” he whispered, pressing urgent kisses to my skin. I shook my head, feeling my breath in my throat.

 

            “Are you?”

 

            “Yes. Always. No matter what happens, Gerard, I’m with you. You will always be my first love. You will always have my heart. That won’t ever change,” he murmured, his kisses getting more and more desperate. I choked again, swallowing hard.

 

            “Are you leaving me?” I managed to gasp.  
He was silent for a painfully long time. His hand was still stroking my spine, but he wasn’t kissing me anymore. The rush of the water and the swirl of noise in my head seemed to combine into a tornado right before my eyes. But I was stuck. I couldn’t run for cover if I tried.

 

            “No, Gerard,” he murmured after too long.  
            “No, I’m not leaving you. I didn’t come here to leave you. I came here because I love you, and I want this to work,” he said firmly. He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but I tried not to focus on that.

 

            “Is it not working?” I asked. I felt like I was walking slowly towards the edge of a cliff, each step bringing me closer to that inevitable fall. Frank sighed and tugged me close, nuzzling his face into my neck.

 

            “It’ll be fine,” he whispered.

I didn’t ask any more questions after that. I didn’t have anything else I wanted to hear him say, not even out of morbid curiosity.

 

 

            When he finally decided to go, I knew by the time I saw him that he was leaving. We’d had very limited contact; nothing more than a few texts and phone calls here and there. We didn’t video chat anymore, because he said his camera was broken. I figured it was because he couldn’t bear to see my face anymore.  
Sometimes when I’d call, I’d hear a woman’s voice in the background. He told me she was his roommate, but I doubted it. I knew the game, and he was playing it. The worst part was, I couldn’t even call him on it. I told him to. I told him to forget about me, and spread his wings.  
Now all I wanted to do was break his tiny bird wings and set them on fire. I wanted to make him stay. I wanted to hurt him.

I hated those thoughts. The nights where I convinced myself that maybe if I died, he’d remember how much he loved me and come back. I never actually tried to die – I just thought about it a lot. I knew Mikey couldn’t cope without me, and besides. I couldn’t marry Frank if I was dead.

 

I picked him up at the station at noon. In a horribly desperate bid to get him to love me, I had brought him flowers. He hated flowers, and I knew it, but I didn’t know what else to do. He was with me for a weekend this time, and I was absolutely determined to make it special. I’d spend the whole time making him remember why he needed me, and this time, when he went back, he’d take me with him in his heart. I’d fix everything.

I knew the moment I saw him that that wasn’t the case.

 

            “Geez, Gee. You didn’t have to get me flowers,” he said, not bothering to even take them. I shrugged and clasped them tightly.

 

            “I wanted to. They’re pretty,” I said weakly.

 

            “Yeah, Gee. They are. And…and so are you,” he murmured, touching my hand. He smiled then, but it wasn’t the same. It was a smile you gave to a kind old woman in the street, or to a dog tied to a pole outside a shop. It was admiring, yet pitiful.

 

            “I’ll throw them away. Sorry. I just-“ I was already beginning to tear up. I made my way towards the garbage can, but he caught my wrist.

 

            “Hey. Hey, no. Don’t do that. Please. I’m sorry, it’s…been a long journey. I love them,” he said, taking them from me. I turned and nodded, but didn’t smile. He hummed and pulled me into his arms, kissing my neck.

            “Don’t be sad. I’m here, Gerard. I’m right here,” he said. He pulled back to cup my cheeks, smiling warmly at me. This time, he looked a little more like himself – but there was still something missing.

 

            “I love you, Frank. I love you,” I stammered. I felt like an idiot. He was here, and I was ruining it by crying. He wiped tears that I hadn’t even realized had started falling, and nodded.

 

            “I know, baby,” he murmured. I swallowed hard, feeling blood rise to my cheeks.

 

            “And you…you love me?” I whispered. I expected him to say no on the spot, but I should’ve known better.

 

            “Yes, of course. I promised. No matter what, Gerard, I love you. I don’t know how to live without loving you,” he murmured.  
I smiled a little, then. He was telling me the truth. I could see it reflected in his eyes; just a small piece of the awe he used to carry when he’d stare at me. He thought I was beautiful, and he wanted me, if only for now.

 

            “You said on the phone…you have something to tell me?” I hedged. It was foolish move. He’d only just got off the train – we hadn’t even gotten back to my house yet. If it was anything good he’d have told me right then, but by the way his face dropped, I knew it wasn’t good.

 

            “I…Gerard,” he sighed. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days. He really was getting older, wasn’t he?

            “Yes. But…can we spend some time together first?” he asked softly, taking my hand into his. His body was shaking, a little sheen of sweat starting to rise on his hand. I swallowed, feeling anxiety claw at my throat.

 

            “Is it bad?” I whispered. He didn’t respond. He just turned his face away, like he was trying to memorise the lines in the railroad tracks.

            “ _Frank”_

_“_ Yes. It’s bad,” he said bluntly. When his eyes met mine again, all the warmth had been drained from them, and I was back to looking into an unfamiliar abyss.

 

            “Then why not just say it now?” I challenged. My voice trembled, but was surprisingly firm. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

 

            “Because I love you, okay? That’s the truth. I want to see you. I want to spend time with you,” he mumbled.

            “Will you let me?”

 

            “Before you leave for good?” I challenged. He sighed, a tired smirk on his face. He shrugged.

 

            “Maybe. Are you going to let me have you for today?” he asked. I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes. He seemed so tired, so withdrawn. The hardest part wasn’t what he said – it was knowing that I’d done this to him. As cruel as he seemed now, I knew it was nothing compared to what I’d done to him. All those years of recklessness, of manipulation. I’d bent him, twisted him to my will, until he couldn’t just bounce back to his original shape. He’d had to tear out parts of himself to build me back when I broke down, and now he was running out of pieces to give. He needed someone to fix him and I knew it wasn’t me. It couldn’t be. If he stayed, we’d be in an endless cycle of him building himself up, and me stealing his light. I knew this was what was best for him. But what’s medicine to one, is venom to the other, and I could already feel this in my veins.

 

            “I’m going to let you have me for as long as you’ll have me,” I replied softly. He took the flowers in one hand, and my hand in the other, and nodded.

 

“Then let’s do this,” he whispered.

 

We had a good day. It wasn’t perfect, but it was us. We both managed to push our agony behind us and try to entangle ourselves, once more, in the light of each other’s stars.  
We went out for lunch at that old restaurant near Reggie’s. A new family owned it now, and they didn’t know our names, but Frank didn’t seem to notice. It was like the whole world was moving forward without me, and I was chained to the floor, watching everyone float away from me.

 

I suggested going to see Reggie, but Frank said he didn’t feel comfortable with it.

 

            “I don’t want to be hit on by creepy old dudes, Gee,” he said, smiling wryly. I was a little taken aback, but of course, I understood.

 

            “You’re with me, Frankie. I’ll fight them off,” I teased. He looked tired again, then, just shrugging a little.

 

            “Yeah. I guess you would, huh?” he mumbled. His eyes got a dazed, faraway look in them. I was terrified by it. He looked so old when he did that. It was like he had never belonged to me. I don’t think this version of Frank really did ever belong to me.

 

The end was quick, like I hoped it would be. He sat beside me on my sofa, gently tracing my face with his fingertips, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his skin danced across my features.

 

            “I’m scared,” I said softly. He sat back, nodding, and took my hand into his own. He looked up at me with such fondness that I thought I might cry on the spot.

 

            “I’m scared too, Gee. I never thought…”

 

            “Neither did I,” I whispered.  
There was silence for a few moments. My mind was screaming with white noise as I prepared for the oncoming shot of despair that was about to rip through me. I wondered if he’d say it. I half hoped he might just leave it up in the air, so I’d have to ask him.  
But then, I knew him a little too well. He’d want to end things firmly, finally. He never liked loose ends before, and I imagined he hated them even more now.

 

            “I will always love you, Gerard. I will. I…can’t not. I don’t know how to not love you. But I also love myself, and being away from you…it’s been real good for me, Gerard,” he whispered.  
It sounded too similar to something I’d said to him once. Some cruel statement I’d conjured to hurt him. He wasn’t trying to hurt me now, but it stung all the same.

“I know. I can see it,” I admitted. He nodded, smiling faintly.

 

            “I used to think that being in love with you was enough to make us good. But…it’s not. It’s not nearly enough, Gerard. And even if it was-“ he cut off, closing his eyes like he was physically pained. When he opened them again, they were swimming with tears. A single drop fell onto his cheek, but I didn’t brush it away.

           

“E-even if it was. I…I’m not in love with you anymore, Gerard. I will always love you. But I…I’m not in love with you,” he whispered.

I don’t know why I was surprised, but I was. A gasp was pulled from my throat, and all at once, I felt myself start to cry.  
It didn’t take long before my tears were torrential rainfall, my body doubling over with the weight of the ocean balancing on my lungs.

 

            “N-no. No. I love you. Please, I love you,” I gasped. Frank swallowed, wiping his eyes. His body was shaking with repressed sobs, but he didn’t give in. Part of me was glad – he didn’t deserve to cry right now. But another part just wished I could hold him. I wanted to make this better, one last time.

 

            “I know. I love you too. But…”

 

            “Is there someone else?” I whispered. It was a stupid question, but I had to know. Even if it killed me, I had to know. He groaned, pulling away a little.

 

            “I…yes. But she’s not relevant to this. I’m not leaving you for her, okay? I’m just…”

 

            “You’re just leaving,” I said bluntly. He sighed and reached up to touch my face, but I smacked his hand away. He look hurt, but nodded.

 

            “Yeah, babe. I’m leaving. I’m…leaving you. I’m sorry.”

 

 

I didn’t want to sleep with him – at least, not like I usually did. There was a sense of obligation to it that I didn’t understand. His body was a chapel, and I had to pray to him. I had to show my love through the roll of my hips, and gasps muffled by pillowcases. He was all over me, but I couldn’t feel his touch. His hands were just hands, his lips just lips. There was nothing about the way he held me that made me feel like I belonged with him. I stared up into his face, his lust-blown eyes, his gently parted lips, and all I found was beauty. He was beauty in the way a statue was – cold, and only to be seen, not felt. I couldn’t find a trace of myself in the curves of his face, and he was all the more beautiful for it.  
He was stressed, yes, but there was a freedom about him that I’d never seen before.  
I was his cage, and to be free, he’d had to break me apart. I was just happy to see how high he could soar.

 

            “I love you forever, Frank,” I whispered, once my voice found it’s way back to me. This time, he did collapse onto me, curling beneath my chin just like he used to.

 

            “I love you forever too, Gerard. I promise.”  
I knew he was crying, but I didn’t say anything. Even when I felt tears on my own cheeks, I didn’t say a word. There was nothing more to be said.

 

 

            Not seeing Frank for as long as I did was a blessing, in a way. Not that being away from him did me any good, but because I knew he’d be heartbroken to see how badly I was treating myself. At the time, I convinced myself that he wouldn’t care, but I knew, deep down, that he would. He’d tell me to stop, to take care of myself. And maybe that’s why I didn’t. How _dare_ he still love me. How dare he?

 

Mikey was getting sick of me, and I couldn’t even blame him. I was a mess. I came home in the early hours of every morning, smelling like booze, limping from being fucked, trackmarks and cuts all over my arms. He’d been a model patient – he hadn’t had a single relapse, but I could tell that I was making things hard for him.  
The worst part, was I didn’t even care. I was pushing him away, just to see how far I could make him go. Maybe I wouldn’t be satisfied until he left. Maybe I wouldn’t be satisfied until I could die without anyone noticing.

 

            “Gerard, this is…I can’t do this,” he said one morning. I’d come home only a few hours before, and was still a little out of it. Even in my drunken state, though, I tensed. This was it. He was going to leave me.

 

            “Then move out,” I snapped. He flinched, and I immediately felt guilty. This wasn’t his fault, but he was the one who had to pay. It was a game I’d played with Frank for years, and in the end, I lost. Maybe it’d be best if I lost this one too.

 

            “No. Stop being an asshole. I’m not going to leave you, okay? I know that’s what you want, but I won’t. You’re my big brother. But you can’t…you can’t live like this. And I can’t, either. I know Frank left, but what did you expect? You were shitty to him, Gee, and you knew it. You always said you’d get better, but you didn’t even try. And now he’s gone, and you can’t even be mad at him, because _you_ drove him away,” he said firmly. It seemed like a weight lifted off his shoulders once he’d said that, and he relaxed. I thought I’d start crying when he confronted me, but I didn’t. I just stared at him, feeling a strange twist in my stomach, like I couldn’t quite decide if I wanted to laugh or vomit.

 

            “I…you’re…you’re right,” I breathed.

 

            “I know,” he said sharply.  
I closed my eyes, sighing faintly. I was still too strung out to really be able to communicate with him, but even in that state, I knew he really was right. I wasn’t proving anything by being like this. Frank was never coming back, and Mikey would never leave me: he’d just get more, and more miserable. That wasn’t what I wanted for him, or for myself.

 

I stood shakily, resting a hand on his shoulder.

            “I’m gonna sleep. And then I’m gonna go for a walk,” I told him softly. He nodded, looking a little pained, but not angry.

 

            “Keep your phone on you, okay? And…be careful,” he mumbled. His words carried real concern in them, and when he looked up at me, I could barely recognize him. Why was it that everyone around me looked so _tired_?

 

            “I will.”

 

 

            There were very few places Frank and I had never been together – and as far as I could remember, the art gallery was one of them. We were both interested in art, so it surprised me that we hadn’t. Maybe I thought we’d have time to do it later. I felt a rush of pain at the thought, but ignored it. I needed to be surrounded by beautiful things, and this was what came to mind. I knew I probably still stunk of alcohol and desperation, but the art was beautiful, so I was beautiful too.

 

When I saw them together, I was only surprised by how unsurprised I was. I’d come to see beauty, after all, and I was now face to face with the most perfect artwork of them all.

 

            “Hey, Gerard. It’s…good to see you,” Frank said softly. His face suggested that it wasn’t at all good to see me. The contrast would have been amusing if it weren’t so painful.

 

            “You too. You look…really good.”  
It was cliché, but he did. He looked even more beautiful than he had when I’d last seen him. He had more tattoos, and was more muscular than before. He had an almost full beard, behind which a genuine, easy smile shone. I hadn’t seen him smile that easily in years.

 

            “Thanks…” he gestured to the girl who was holding his hand. The same hand where his engagement ring once sat.

            “This is Jamia. She’s…” he blushed, averting his eyes. I wonder what it was he was going to say. ‘She’s the girl I left you for’? ‘She’s the girl I want instead of you’?

 

            “Your girlfriend?” I supplied. He looked up, not meeting my eyes, and nodded. I looked at her properly for the first time, and felt an odd clench in my chest. It was like jealousy, but worse. Perhaps it was worse because she’d already won.

She was beautiful. If Frank could have found a girl to match his own beauty, she would have only been slightly more pretty than the one on his arm. I smiled at her, though a part of me wanted to fall to the floor right in front of them and sob.

            “Hi, Jamia. I’m Gerard,” I said warmly, offering her a hand.

 

She shook my hand confidently, firmly, but not like a challenge. In fact, she didn’t seem to know who I was at all.  
I realized with a jolt of pain that she probably didn’t. He probably had never mentioned me.

 

            “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. Her voice was like warm honey, and I couldn’t help but smile. Frank deserved a girl like that. He deserved a girl who was soft, and kind, and shook strange men’s hands even when they stunk of whiskey, or when there were marks all over their arms.  
I was happy for him. Genuinely, unashamedly, I was happy.

I caught his eye, and gave him a warm, meaningful smile.

 

            “You two look very happy,” I murmured. Frank nodded, looking a little shaken, but still like he was being lit from the inside.

 

            “I am, Gee,” he murmured, “I really am.”

 

            “Then so am I.”

 

 

            I meant it. I wanted Frank to be happy more than anything in the world – that had always been true, and it didn’t seem to be changing now. I was coming to terms with the fact that, perhaps, being happy didn’t mean with me. Though, I admit, I held some hope. Maybe one day he’d realise that we really were good for each other, and he’d want me back.  
Dreaming did no harm. Not too much, anyway. Sometimes I’d wake up and forget he wasn’t mine, and turn over only to find my bed empty – but I knew that would pass. It had to.

 

I didn’t intend on moving away. But when the opportunity presented itself, I didn’t see any other choice for me. My comic work had really started taking off, and there wasn’t anything tying me to Jersey anymore.  
No, that wasn’t true. There was. But the thing that was tying me down, was the exact reason why I had to go. No Jersey meant no risk of running into Frank. There would be no more torturing myself by hoping to catch him with his new girlfriend – or even worse, alone. The only other time I’d seen him alone since our break up was at his Mother’s place, and it’d ended with him sucking my cock, and me leaving in the dead of night to go wash away the feeling of his mouth with a man I didn’t know.  
I didn’t need that anymore. I didn’t need to think about him.

 

I almost didn’t meet up with him, but I knew I’d hate myself if I didn’t see him one, final time. I chose a place I knew we’d never been to together, so I didn’t have to create new memories over the old. Our old lives had faded away – this was the future.

 

He didn’t recognize me at first, and I was glad for it. He was already there when I arrived, and I scowled at the way my heart raced. He wasn’t mine. He belonged to her. I knew that from the wedding invitation I’d received in the mail. They were going to do what he and I had only ever dreamed of, and I hated her for it.  
I hated him for it even more.

 

We sat in silence for some time. He wanted to say something to me- that much I could tell. He was choking on his words, and it irritated me. I wish he’d just speak. I wish, after all this time, he didn’t still look so afraid of me.  
But then, I suppose that was partially my own fault.

 

            “You know, after all these years, I still believe you’re it for me,” I said suddenly. He glanced up, looking sad, but not surprised. He already knew what I was going to say before I’d even said it.

 

            “I think I knew you were going to say that,” he murmured, his eyebrows furrowing. It reminded me of when we first met, when I was a problem he couldn’t work out. Now, though, he didn’t want to work me out. He wanted me to leave.

I couldn’t help but smile, though. That last shred of hope was fluttering in my chest, and for all my fighting, I couldn’t let it go.

 

            “I’d still marry you in a minute, you know. I still have your ring, and if you want it…it’s yours. I’m yours. I could take you away with me to New York.” I could hear the desperation in my own voice, but I didn’t care. It was settling in now that this could be my last chance. I had to try. I had to.  
He held my hand in his and smiled. It was condescending, pitying. I almost hated it.  
Almost.

 

            “Gerard, you will always have a special place in my heart. I don’t think that I could ever not love you,”

 

            “Then why-

 

            “I had to. You have to see that we’re both better off this way,” he murmured. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. I couldn’t work out if it was for his sake or mine. My heart clenched and, against my wishes, I felt my eyes flood with tears.

 

            “You said you’d always come back for me,” I whispered. He glanced up, lips pursed. He was calculating still. He had a guard that he wasn’t letting down.

 

            “I did come back, didn’t I?” he said hoarsely.

I didn’t know what to say to that. He was right, I supposed – but he was wrong, too.  
We sat in silence, my hand still in his. I tried to memorise how it felt. I had to remember this when he was gone.

 

I couldn’t take it for much longer. It became clear to me that the conversation was over, and I suddenly had to leave. Without a word, I stood and grabbed my jacket off the back of the seat. I started towards the door, dead set on just leaving him sitting there.  
The fear of never seeing him again is what stopped me.

 

            “Oh, and congrats on your engagement. I guess you’ll understand if I don’t show up to the wedding,” I said, turning towards him. The words were laughed, bitterly, but I didn’t smile at all. My heart was aching too much to even pretend it wasn’t.  
Frank nodded, swallowing hard. I could see him doing it again, calculating, trying to find words to say to me. It almost hurt me to see him try so hard, so I just nodded. I understood him perfectly, without him even needing to speak. I just smiled at him, my lips trembling.

            “Im yours, Frankie. You know that, don’t you? Always,” I said softly. I heard my voice crack, and I knew I had to leave. I was almost glad when he couldn’t reply. I waved to him, taking one final look at his face, before rushing out the door to my car.  
I felt like I’d never smile again. My life would be tears. From here, to forever.  
Dust. I was nothing but dust.

 

 

            I thought about Frank every day, even though I tried hard not to. His wedding was looming closer and closer, and I thought I would surely die when it came – but I didn’t. Instead, Mikey and I sent him flowers (signed only under Mikey’s name), and I tried hard not to think about him. I was moving on, in my own way. I wasn’t forgetting him – I don’t think I really ever could. But I forgave him. More importantly, I forgave myself. I tried to learn from my mistakes. I tried to be better.

 

I did some dating in the next few years, but it never really worked out. Mainly because of my job, but also because I knew it wouldn’t work out. Frank was it for me – that much had always been true. After finding and losing my soulmate, nothing else seemed worth the effort.  
Eventually, Mikey and I agreed to remain bachelors for the rest of our days. At the very least, things would be easier if we were alone. We could both spend our lives being best friends, and trying to recover from the years previous.

For a while, it seemed like it was going to work. And then that night came.

 

I was recovering from Frank, but that, in no way, meant I was recovering. I was cutting less, but drinking more to replace it. The drugs were less frequent, though. I knew it broke Mikey’s heart, but it was an improvement, at the very least.  
On the night in question, I was drunk, but not excessively. Not quite yet. I was about three beers in when my phone chimed.  
At first, I thought my drink had been spiked (a ridiculous notion when one considers that I was home alone). But no, it was real. Frank’s name flashed up onto my phone. For real. For the first time in forever.

 

 **FROM: Frank.**  
(2:39am)  
Gerard. I’m moving away from Jersey tomorrow, and I’m so scared. I’m scared because, as much as I try to escape it, I love you, and I always will. Fuck, I always thought it would be you and me. Where did we go wrong, Gee? What the fuck happened?

Maybe it could still be us. That sounds crazy, but I don’t even know anymore. I just know that I love you, Gerard. I love you, and I will always love you.

 

I couldn’t breathe. I read over it once, twice. I read over it ten fucking times, my heart pounding in my ears.  
Frank wanted me. After all this time, Frank wanted me.  
I knew we were soulmates. I knew we could do it. I felt a spike of anger, momentarily. How dare he? He abandoned me for _years_ , and then he suddenly wants me back? It was unfair. It was inhumane.

  
The anger passed quickly, and was replaced with a surge of joy. I had to go to him. We could sort everything out later. I could already taste his lips, feel his skin. All that I had done to forget him was washing away, and my heart was opening for him once again.

 

 **TO: Frank.**  
(2:43am)  
Fuck. Fuck, baby, are you serious?  
Shit. Frankie. Fuck. You don’t even know how long I’ve waited for this. I love you too. I love you so fucking much.  
What’s your address? If I leave now, I can be there in three hours or so, if traffic’s okay.  
I can’t believe this. I love you so much.

 

I sent the message in a whirlwind. I knew a lot of it was spelled wrong, but I didn’t care. He’d knew what I meant. Frank always did.

 

He didn’t reply immediately, but I didn’t expect him to. Though, I wanted to be ready for him as soon as he did. I set my phone down and jumped up, grabbing my shoes and coat, pulling them on in a frenzy. I was lucky Mikey was already in bed, because he’d have called me a mad man. I didn’t care, though. I was hysterical. I needed Frank, and he needed me. We were going to be together. We were going to do it.

 

It took me maybe ten minutes to get ready to leave. I grabbed my phone, and frowned. He hadn’t replied yet.  
A part of me wanted to just start driving towards Jersey and hope he’d give me the address when I was close, but I didn’t want to risk missing the message.

So I sat.

And I sat.  
And I sat.

 

I sat all night. I didn’t feel tired. My body, for the first time in years, was racing with electricity. I needed to touch him, to hold him. I needed to hear his voice.  
I could see the sun rise above the horizon, but I still held my phone tightly in my hand.  
He’d reply. I knew he would.

 

 

            I awoke suddenly to Mikey shaking me, looking concerned.

           

            “Gee? Did you go out?” he asked gently, stroking my hair.

I gasped, jumping up and grabbing my phone.  
Nothing.  
He hadn’t replied.

For a second, I thought that maybe he’d fallen asleep. Maybe I should call him. Maybe I should…

 

I was lying to myself, though. Any idiot could see that.  
I felt my eyes well up with tears, immediately slipping down my face. There was no moment of ‘beginning’ to cry. One moment, I was staring blankly at the phone, and the next I was sobbing. My whole body was hunched over, desperate sobs being wrenched out of my chest.

 

            “Gerard? What is it? What’s wrong?” Mikey asked, sitting next to me. I couldn’t speak. I was being choked to death, but I wasn’t dying.  
Why the fuck wasn’t I dying?

 

I handed him the phone wordlessly. He fell silent for a few moments as he read, the air punctuated with my desperate, agonized sobs.

 

            “Oh God,” Mikey whispered. He immediately pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. It was comforting, but I barely felt it. I was numb, yet I was in pain. I couldn’t feel anything except the stabbing agony in my chest and my head.

 

            “Mikey…I…”

 

            “Shh. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, Gerard. I’m so sorry,” he breathed, rubbing my back. He was crying too. Why was Mikey crying too?

 

            “I can’t, I can’t-“

 

            “You’re okay. Shhh. I’ve got you, Gee. I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

 

We sat like that for the rest of the day. We didn’t have much choice. Whenever I tried to move, I just started crying again. Frank had healed me, and wounded me again in one swift move. He’d left me broken. I didn’t know if I could live after this – not again. I didn’t know if I wanted to.

 

            “I hate him. I hate him,” I sobbed.

This time, Mikey didn’t try to reason with me. I think we both hated Frank a little just then. I wonder if Mikey ever stopped. I wonder if I did, either.

 

Ashes.  
Dust.  
What seemed like my once-forever, my once-love, was never to be, and never will. Somewhere, my love is in love, and laughing.  
I wonder if he has a family. I  
wonder if he thinks about me.  
I think about him.

 

I recovered from that final wound, in time. I forgave him, I suppose. I like to think that after everything I did, he and I were finally even. Maybe now I knew what it felt like to be with me.  
If it hurt even half this much, then I hate myself even more for inflicting it.

 

I am a universe. He told me that once, didn’t he? He said we are all universes. He was obsessed with that idea, and I think it shows. I am a swirling mass of galaxies and stars. I am life, and I am death. I am the beginning and end, the first kiss and the final farewell. In my bones lies every heart ever broken, and every love that has ever burned. And burned out.  
Like the turn of the tide, like the shine of an eclipse, this will pass. The years will fade. One day, I will be myself once more.  
When that day comes, I will still say his name. Centuries may pass, and stars may die, but his name will live on my lips, and in my heart. His Saturn-ring eyes, his delicate fingers. His laugh. His tears. Every breath he draws makes me more of a man.

I am, as always, a servant to his whim, a slave to his passions – even if I no longer receive them. I belong to him, now and forever. There is a sense of fatality to that – belonging to a man who I know can never belong to me. I know that. But I can’t help but feel close to him, even while he’s so far away, both in body and in heart. There’s something quite romantic about it, and I can live with that.  
In fact, I think I like it.


End file.
